


Warmth

by orphan_account



Series: S T R A W H E A R T [5]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Hatred, Single Parents, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Work Up For Adoption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2018-11-07 10:05:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11056692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Law Trafalgar is twenty-six, Male Model of the Year, and an absolute wreck. Luffy's the guy he almost punches in the park.Somehow, despite this brief encounter, Law feels a warmth whenever he thinks of the apparent teenager in a straw hat that he hasn't felt since—hasn't felt in a while.





	1. Breakdown

Law sighs, trying to somehow burrow further into his trench coat to escape the chilly wind that’s ridiculous given that it’s not even winter. Around him, various strangers whisper and gawk, one woman with break-ankle heels even asking a woman she was previously scowling at: “Is that Law Trafalgar? The model?”

_Great_ , Law thinks bitterly.

Other whispers of _“Gorgeous.”,_ _“Stunning.”_ and a few other undignified words are being used to describe him.

It’s too much.

The familiar tug of panic attempts to seize his form, starting his heart and causing his chest to ache and breath to quicken. Dread coils in his stomach and his thoughts begin to race in uncomprehending bits and pieces.

—S _houldn’t have worn this_ —

— _They’re staring_ —

— _Hate how they look at me_ —

Law’s palms sweat against the trapped warmth of his cup, the urge to get out a mantra in his head and—

_Enough._

With a single shaking hand, he places the money on the counter, ignoring the young barista’s surprise at such a large tip, before shouldering past the line behind him and trying to breathe as the room suddenly falls silent, as if his every action is amazing and must be worshipped and admired.

When Law emerges from the small café, away from the people, the whispering, and the trapped space, he can breathe again. But he’s still trembling, like the scarf billowing around his neck, and he’s suddenly grateful for the secure lid of his coffee, otherwise it would be soaking into his sleeve and burning his hand. He itches for a cigarette to calm his nerves, uncaring of the thought of his therapists disappointed gaze.

It’s with a trembling sigh that he takes the headphones from his pocket where he stuffed them previously, and puts them in his ears, drowning out all sound of chatter, the wind, little kids and cars, until all that’s left is the warmth of his coffee and the uncaring drift of music drowning out his fears, his worries, and the voices of people that admire and love him for nothing more than his looks, name, and what he stands for.

It doesn’t take long before he’s found an unoccupied bench near the small park that people take their dogs to for walks or to play.

Law sips his coffee, ignoring the slight burn on his tongue and running his free hand over his piercings below his lip, mindful of showing too much of his face. The slight breeze is unwelcome, reminding him of snow and how he’ll need to be elsewhere when it begins snowing here, to get away from memories that sends him into a spiraling depression that even his family and friends have a hard time getting him out of.

It’s not until a Frisbee lands at his feet, does the panic from before come back.

Law tries to keep his face as hidden as he can, hoping that whomever threw it will pick it up and go while ignoring the weird man in the trench coat trying to hide his face.

It doesn’t work.

The one who comes to retrieve the red disk is a teenager with messy black hair, a small scar under one eye, and a beaming smile. His eyes are like the color of night, too dark to be brown, too warm to be cold, and what he’s wearing brings goosebumps to Law’s arms at just the sight. On his lanky frame, hangs a vest with the first few buttons undone, jean shorts that reach his knees, and sandals. The oddest thing, however, is the straw hat crammed on the teenager’s head.

Despite the cold and the panic, the teenager’s beaming smile and playful eyes feel warm.

Hesitantly, Law takes out his headphones, revealing his face in the process. Behind the teenager, is a younger boy trailing after him. The child is dressed appropriately for the weather—nearly wearing all red—a scarf, shirt and jacket, jeans and sneakers. The only peculiar thing about the outfit is that the same golden snake emblem marks every article of the child’s clothing.

“He's—!” the child exclaims, covering his mouth with his pink hair falling in front of his glasses, before tugging on the teen’s vest.

“That’s _Him_ !”

The panic from before seizes Law’s chest as a sudden, single thought enters his mind.

_No._

The teen makes a small questioning noise, glancing down at his small friend before placing a hand on the shorter boy’s head.

“It’s okay, Coby! He knows that you didn’t mean to! Right?” the teen asks Law, that same friendly smile gracing his features.

“That’s right.” Law responds, smirking as he meets the child’s gaze. It has the desired effect when the child cowers behind the teen and gazes at him like he’s the devil himself. Oblivious to this, the teen laughs again, patting the child’s pink hair, not unlike the color of Bonney’s. But thinking of his sister—known to lay Kid flat on his ass—and the meek child is almost overwhelming.

“It’s okay, Coby!” the teen’s laughter is an odd, _shi shi shi._ “It’s not like he bites!”

Coby looks unconvinced.

“I’m Luffy!” the teen’s grin widens, “and this is my son, Coby!”

Law tries not to show his surprise at the proclamation, because this grinning teen has to be a teen, right? It’s not unheard of for teenagers to have kids anymore, but this… _Luffy_ just seems so innocent.

“Law.” Law replies, not bothering to care that he just revealed his name. It’s not going to matter later when Luffy’s son tells his father exactly who Law is, and that this is the last time that they’re going to most likely see each other.

Luffy laughs, “Shishishi! Cool name!”

_Why does it feel calmer all of a sudden?_ Law asks himself, summing it up to this strange man who’s smile feels safe and calming.

“Are those tattoos!?” Luffy beams, grabbing Law’s forearm to examine the ink, while Coby appears more or less as uncomfortable as Law himself feels at what appears to be normal behavior, unless Luffy actually knows who he is and is trying to touch the named, _‘Male Model of the Year’._

Law frowns, the realization sitting heavy in his chest as he yanks his arm back, uncaring of those owlish eyes staring at him blankly.

To his surprise, Luffy merely grins. “Sorry, sorry.”

Coby is quick to grab his father’s arm and apologize without meeting Law’s nearly golden gaze.

“Sorry, he does things like that sometimes.”

“Hey,” Luffy pouts, actually pouts at his son. It fucking hurts to see, because it’s _familiar._ “—I’m older than you!”

“Dad!” Law hears the child say, before there’s a hand on his shoulder and the scent of seasoning that one would expect to smell in kitchens or on a chef’s clothing.

“Are you okay, Law?” Luffy asks, confusion written across his features. “Weird! You don’t feel like a Law.”

Law swallows, ignoring the seizing of his chest and _he can’t breathe._

“I’m fine,” he manages, “I have to go, Luffy-ya.”

The curious expression remains on Luffy’s features, but he removes his hand.

“Okay. But you’re not.”

_What?_ Law thinks internally, gritting his teeth and glaring at the teen. Before he can process what he’s doing, Law has a fistful of Luffy’s vest, their faces inches apart while Coby pleads with him to put his father down.

“What the fuck do _you_ know, huh?!” a smirk that feels more like a grimace crosses Law’s features as his grip tightens on Luffy’s red vest. “You don’t even know who I am.”

Luffy’s face is blank, “Maybe not. But I know that you’re being stupid.”

“That’s like the teacup calling the kettle black,” Law’s angry gaze falls on the straw hat sitting on Luffy’s head, the thought of first names too personal as he practically hisses, “Straw Hat.”

Around them, a crowd is beginning to form, while shouts of: _“Call the police!”_ and _“Is that Law Trafalgar!?”_ with _“No way! It couldn’t be!”_ circle the area.

“They wouldn’t want you sad, you know.” Luffy tells him, face blank, and yet, that same blank look suddenly feels warm.

Law, without fully comprehending why, drops the strange man, feeling a warmth blossoming in his chest along with the disconcerting urge to sob in front of all these people that he won’t give into in front of these crowds of _vultures._

He can read the headline now:

**Breakdown**

 

> Law Trafalgar—an uprising model of _Corazón’s Design’s_ and named, Male Model of the Year—was recently caught on film suffering from a breakdown after allegedly attempting to physically assault a man with his son at a local dog park.

  
He wants to cry, to destroy property, to punch something, someone—Luffy—he doesn’t care, _he doesn’t fucking care_. He needs to get away, to forget about being Law Trafalgar, to get away from everyone and everything.

So that’s what he does.

Law flags down a cab and goes home to his studio apartment where he lets Bepo curl up in his lap with the thought of the teen’s warmth as he sobs at the memory of Corazón holding him when he was a child, uncaring of his family and his friends that want to help him when _he doesn’t deserve it._


	2. Phone Calls and News Reports

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day—after almost assaulting a father in a dog park—Law is struggling to crawl from the pit known as depression. A phone call from an unknown number isn't even the worst news.

It's dull and bleak, this thing known as his existence.

The fan on his writing table whirls and offers what should be a comforting breeze, but instead makes him want to crawl out of his own skin.

It's bright outside, noticeable by the sun shining through the windows while a male news anchor continues to go on about something that's more white noise than anything else to Law. Bepo moves off his lap, stepping on his chest and cheek in the process to get to the end table where the fluffy white cat swats at the glass at a passing bird.

Around him, the world continues on.

But he's not moving. Instead, Law's laying on his couch in baggy sweats and a yellow hoodie, staring at the ceiling with dull eyes and ignoring his phone on the coffee table that he had to turn off to keep from receiving calls from his siblings and friends; it just kept buzzing and buzzing until he couldn't get the racing thoughts in his head straight. 

Law ignores the notifications of text messages, voicemails, and missed calls. In the end, they don't mean anything.

His family and friends shouldn't waste their time worrying about him, that's what Cora did, and look where he is now.

Law grits his teeth. He wants to hit and yell until he can't anymore. He's tired of this endless cycle of racing thoughts, self-loathing, and anger at everything and everyone for no reason that makes him want to scream and break down in the middle of the floor with the knowledge that nobody will see his moment of weakness.

It's tempting, and Law finds himself unable to deny the pressure behind his eyes and the unseen weight on his shoulders any longer.

He doesn't yell or scream. Instead, in this self-pitying state of his, Law grabs his hair and sobs like he hasn't since he was a small child with no one left in the world. He does this until the sobs get stuck in his chest while his throat aches and cheeks itch from tears. Afterwards, Law lays there until the tears caught in his eyelashes and the sticky trails down his cheeks are cold and uncomfortable.

It's only because Law knows that he isn't a child anymore—that he has people counting on him, and just because he's pitying himself doesn't mean that he doesn't have things to do—he sits up and uses the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe his face before taking a shower that's more standing under hot water until it goes cold than getting clean.

* * *

 Law grabs the bottled water from his fridge—ignoring that distant ache for something stronger—and a cup of ramen noodles that he places in the microwave after filling with water, shivering at the cold drops of water from his hair dripping on his bare chest.

He approaches the table and reaches for his phone which he runs an appreciative thumb over while it turns back on, watching the logo flash until the picture of a baby Bepo sitting in his lap stares back at him. In the corner, next to his spotted jeans and the closeup of baby Bepo, there's a smidge of pink.

_Cora,_ Law swallows, his throat suddenly sore again with a familiar pressure building behind his eyes at the sight.

It's the sleeve of one of Cora's ridiculous heart shirts that he always somehow looks right in, despite the shirts ridiculous designs.

Law chokes, running a thumb over the image as if he'll feel the familiar softness of one of Cora's shirts, before placing a hand over his eyes in an attempt to placate the pressure behind his eyes.

The microwave beeps.

Not hungry but not one to waste, Law brings the noodles and his water bottle with him, sitting both on the coffee table and idly scrolling through the various unread text messages from yesterday.

**Kid:**

  **2:00 PM:** _where the fuck r u?_

**3:00 PM:** _quit bein' a fucking drama queen and answer the fucking phone_

**3:15 PM:** _shit-falgar!?_

**4:00 PM:** _the dick in feathers daughter is calling for u. gave her ur number_

**4:10 PM:** _shitty, fucking bastard ! pick up the fucking phone!_

**4:25 PM:** _bon is worried, I ain't dealing with her_

**5:00 PM:** _fine, be a fucking coward. that's all u do when shit gets bad, u run away crying for_ —

Feeling numb, Law scrolls to the next few messages.

**Bonney:**

**4:20 PM:** _Kid's driving me crazy to call u._

**4:22 PM:** _By the way, that one bitch wanted ur number, Kid gave it to her._

**4:30 PM:** _Where the hell r u, Law D. Water Trafalgar!?_ _(TT)_

**4:40 PM:** _Sexy Bod! Call us._

**5:00 PM:** _Law, call us._

 

**Shachi:**

**2:00 PM:** _Hey, Cap! Watcha up to?!_

**3:00 PM:** _Anyone there?????_

**3:10 PM:** _Captain?_

**3:29 PM** _Law?_

**Penguin:**

**1:00 PM:** _Hey, call me or throw me a text_

**4:00 PM:** _Shachi's going crazy. call us._

**5:00 PM:** _Your siblings tried to kill Shachi via phone call. call one of us._

**5:10 PM:** _Captain?_

After staring blankly at the worried and angry replies, Law chooses Bonney's number. He doesn't bother to steel himself for the anger that's going to be directed at him, knowing that he deserves it.

It rings once or twice, before a familiar voice crackles over the line, and despite how angry she sounds, it's easier to breath.

" _Where the hell have you been_?!"

"At my apartment."

There's rustling on the other line, along with the sound of sharp clacks that have to be her break-ankle heels.

"Don't _fuck_ with me, Law! We've been worried sick! You can't just disappear and expect us to be okay with it—!" Bonney sighs, the sound crackling over the line—"You have to _at least_ tell us where you're going."

Law glances at the weather girl which has replaced the news anchor, idly watching the latest forecast for any news of snow. Bepo rubs against his legs, demanding his attention. He complies, petting Bepo's soft fur with a fond smirk.

"I mean—fuck, Law! Kid—don't give a fuck about anybody—Eustass, called me in the middle of a meeting about you. _Kid_ called about someone other than one of his runaway sluts and occasional bastard. _You_. His fucking _brother_!" Bonney huffs, her voice cracking, which causes Law's stomach to flip, a grim line thinning his lips.

"You can't do that, Law. You _can't_."

"I'm sorry." It's a flimsy excuse, but it's all he has to offer.

He could tell the truth, about how he almost punched a father in a dog park and came home to sleep on his couch. And—after staring at the ceiling for an hour the next day—broke down in tears. Somehow, Law thinks that that would earn him a forced trip to the nearest psychiatrist.

"Sorry!? You're fucking sorry?" Bonney mutters a _"Fuck."_ under her breath that sounds suspiciously watery. "We're all hurting too, Law. Just, forget it. What's this I seen about you almost punching a short guy at a dog park?"

Law feels the blood drain from his face.

"Dog park?"

Bonney huffs, "There's photos. _Please_ , I know that scowling face anywhere. It's on a website that finds shit on everyone who's been mentioned in a magazine." She sighs, "Bullshit, maybe. But this particular post doesn't _seem_ to be bullshit, considering _that_ _temperament_ of yours."

Law _doesn't_ huff, but the sound he makes is close. "I'm not like Kid."

"I've literally seen you bust Kid's nose for waking you up early." Bonney snorts, "You can't bullshit me, Sexy Bod!"

Law frowns at the ridiculous nickname—which isn't any better than Kid's nickname for him, Heart Stealer—"It's not what it looks like."

"Uh huh, and I like my brown hair." Bonney says dryly, "Law, there's a reason my hair is pink, like there's a reason you looked like you were about to burst into tears."

Of course Bonney would notice. She was always the one who witnessed plenty of his and Kid's brawling that ended in tears—the words they threw at each other were worse than the physical blows—when they were younger. 

"How are your designs coming along?" Law runs his nails down Bepo's back, smirking when the action elicits a purr. 

"Really? _You're_ interested in my designs?"

If Bonney was in his apartment, Law's sure that she would be giving him a flat-look.

Law glances at his ramen, which stopped steaming moments ago.

"Baby5 contacted you?"

"You mean that prissy bitch who says she's your sister when we all know that I am?"

Bonney huffs, "Yeah."

An idiot could figure out that she's jealous, and the familiar walking Stop Sign known as their brother would point it out. However, Law's proud to say that he knows better than to accuse Bonney of any emotion. Much less, jealousy. So instead, he cradles his phone between his neck and shoulder momentarily to situate Bepo more comfortably on his lap, before asking a question that causes his hands to tremble and teeth to grit, knowing the reason why—more importantly, who—Baby5 would contact him over.

"What did she say?"

Bonney pauses on the other line, before there's another crackle as she continues.

"Something about that pink bastard wanting to talk about the Heart Seat with you." There's another woman's voice, along with Bonney's dismissal before his little sister's voice crackles back over the line again. "Look, I'm about to go to a meeting, call Kid so he'll stop texting me like an idiot, 'kay?"

Law smirks, tapping an uneven rhythm against his thigh. "You're eating."

Bonney huffs, and if he could see her, Law's sure that she would be rolling her eyes.

" _So_?"

Any other time, Law would smirk, but he can't bring a smile to his features.

"I'll wait for him to call me."

Bonney sighs, "I haven't forgotten about the dog park incident either, Sexy Bod."

The call ends.

The fan continues to whirl, the newswoman continues to speak, and Bepo continues to purr, but instead of the numbness he was feeling, Law grits his teeth, shooing Bepo off  his lap as ' _Heart Seat'_  races through his mind, along with the image of his old adoptive ' _father_ '. 

Like an unspoken speak of the devil, an unidentified number glows blue on his phone, vibrating on top of his coffee table. Bepo scurries away from the object to hide under the kitchen table, and Law wonders about an animal's sense of danger, before dismissing the thought.

With trembling hands, he swipes the screen and places the phone beside his ear.

"Lawzie?" a familiar voice croons, "It's been so long!"

Law grits his teeth, struggling to restrain his trembling hands. It doesn't work, so he settles on staring at the far wall with a clenched jaw. 

"Cut the shit, Doflamingo."

Doflamingo laughs that ugly _fu fu fu_ that Law's came to loathe. "Now Lawzie, is that any way to talk to your father?"

Even if it's just bait to get a rise out of him, even though he knows better—Law can't bite back his words.

" _You're_ _not_ _my father_."

A silence, except for the lowered volume on the TV and the bell collar around Bepo's neck jingling, before Doflamingo's chuckle comes from the other line once more.

"Almost assaulting men at dog parks, now this? How far you've sunken." Doflamingo continues to laugh, delighting in the responses he's trying—and succeeding—to draw from Law.

Law forces himself to relax, passively watching Bepo paw at his feet.

"I take it that you've had Vergo watching me?"

Doflamingo chuckles that twisted _'fu fu'_ again. "So _suspicious_ , Law! However, my information didn't come from anyone other than the news. You're the big news for today's broadcast after all."

_News?_

Law's body trembles, his teeth grinding against one another as the urge to kill the man on the other line washes over him like it hasn't since he was a child that learned the truth about his _mentor_. He turns his attention to the TV and watches. Law can't hear anything other than slight murmurs, but he doesn't need sound to see a nearly perfect image of him holding Luffy by the neck of his red vest while Luffy's son panicked and stared at him like he was the devil.

"I imagine that industry of yours—not to mention _'Corazón Designs'_ —will suffer due to their top model having an apparent breakdown in a dog park at a father while his son watched no less. I would be very careful, Lawzie." Doflamingo's tone loses the light, teasing nature from before, "If you bite all the hands that feed you, where will you be left?"

Law's acutely aware that he's trembling, fighting back a scream with clenched teeth.

Doflamingo laughs. "Goodbye, Lawzie."

With a click, the call ends.

For a moment, all is silent, until it's shattered when Law kicks the coffee table, knocking over the TV remote which batteries come out and roll. The water bottle rolls under the sofa, and the cup of ramen spills across the carpet.

In the middle of his studio apartment, Law Trafalgar stands with his hands tangled in his hair while tears trail down his face. 

Meanwhile, the news anchor continues to broadcast.

"After the hospitalization of his father—creator of _Corazón Designs_ , Rosinante Donquixote—Law Trafalgar—Male Model of the Year and leading model of his father's designs—was seen roughly grabbing a man—single father and ex husband of fellow model—"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the depressing, and probably boring, chapter.
> 
> As always, sorry for any mistakes. You're free to point them out to me. I would appreciate it. I want to create an alternate fic to this one with the POV of Luffy, but I don't know when I'll stop having writer's doubt, so sorry? I'll try to update this monthly, but I'm a horrible procrastinator, so sorry in advance! :D But comments are an amazing motivator!
> 
> (That's totally not my attempt at blackmailing, lol.)


	3. They wouldn't want you sad, you know

Law wakes up to the sound of rain pounding against his windows.

Judging by the goosebumps on his bare arms, he forgot to turn on the heat the night before. He pulls the blanket further up his body, careful not to disturb the ball of fluff asleep on his bare chest. While waiting for the warmth provided by the blanket to spread to the rest of his shivering form, Law stares at the ceiling and tries to gather the will to get up and confront the shit that is his life.

Another thing is that, even two days later, he can't get Luffy or Luffy's words out of his mind.

_"They wouldn't want you sad, you know."_

Law grits his teeth, running a hand through his hair. Tears burn behind his eyes, and yet, there's a warmth blossoming in his chest. It's ridiculous, a sideffect of not having Cora there with him, but that same stupid warmth that he gains from being near Luffy, it reminds him of Cora.

And the way Luffy looked when he said those stupid words that's responsible for this warmth sitting pleasantly in his chest, he had said it blankly, before a kind smile spread across his features and his dark eyes closed.

It was like...

_"Don't worry, Law. I'll be okay!"_

Unable to contain himself any longer, Law sobs, tears streaming down his cheeks and blurring his vision until the only choice he has left is to close his eyes and confront the image of Cora smiling with his eyes closed, giving him the peace sign, as if everything was going to be okay when the idiot _knew_  that it wasn't, and _still done_  what he did—

Bepo nuzzles Law's cheek affectionately, but Law can't appreciate the gesture while he's gasping and trying to remember the grounding technique, anything, to help him stop panicking.

Cora's hurt, and it's all _his fucking fault._ And Cora's not going to get better, he's dead, it's over, there's no one—he can't drag down the only family he has left, he can't.

The only thing he hears is his sobs, the irrational thoughts gone replaced by a desperate need to just let it out.

He's wondering how long this one is going to last, when Kid's voice booms from behind his front door. Law doesn't have the time to appreciate the odd image of six-foot tall Kid with his spiky red hair and goggles pounding on his door while old Mrs. Hana peeks out the peephole and considers calling the cops or the apartment manager.

With a stuttering breath, Law wipes his face and watches Bepo scatter off his chest and glare at him with groggy eyes.

_"You in there, fucking bastard!?"_

The door rattles in its frame, as if Kid's hammering away his point into the door itself. And though agression is Kid's natural way of expressing himself, the door pounding for more than a few minutes is a tell tale sign of some deeper level of frustration that Law's unsure of how he caused.

_"Bon told me you answered her fuckin' call last night!"_  Kid practically growls, there's a moment of quiet, the Walking Stop Sign's way of giving him a chance to respond before he beating on the door again. _"Grow a pair and open the door, Trafalgar!"_

Law takes a few deep, shaking breaths before responding, "Keep your pants on, Eustass!" he hopes the shaking in his voice isnt noticeable. "Though, knowing your track record, it isn't likely that you can manage."

There's another brief pause, but the next time that Kid speaks, Law can hear an actual grin instead of the unseen frown he knows was there before.

_"Could say the same to you, Trafalgar! If you weren't such a big fucking prune now!"_

Law smirks, hands trembling slightly, before he opens the door, greeted with the sight of his brother, the redhead giant with a dog collar reminiscent of his and Bonney's shared gothic faze when they were teenagers. Looking at his brother now, Kid never really grew out of his gothic faze, because by now, this isn't a faze, this is just how Kid is.

Kid's dressed in black, wearing his beat up trenchcoat over a band t-shirt that Law can actually recall from when they were all living under the same roof, with faded pants and battered boots. If one were to meet Kid Eustass and know the relation between them—with the people obsessed with him, it's almost guaranteed that they would recognize his little brother—they wouldn't be surprised that they don't share the same gene pool.

Kid, in face of their forced reunion, looks him over with a frown before bluntly stating the obvious.

"You look like shit."

Law smiles ruefully, "Lovely insight as always, Eustass."

When his little brother shoots him a dirty look, Law rolls his eyes and wonders for how long Bonney's and Kid are going to play the favorites game.

" _Kid_."

Kid grins, shouldering past Law before plopping on the couch like a demented starfish and messing with Law's phone—left on the coffee table after it was picked back up—like the metaphorical little brat that he is. Really, the only thing that's changed about Kid is his height—he was tall then, a fucking giant now—and an advanced experience in technological and mechanical endeavors. All bad habits and childishness—temper included—have remained. 

Law frowns, rolling his eyes and plucking his phone from the idiot's hand. With a grimace, he realizes that Kid managed to hack his phone, again. This time with the few steps it took him to walk from the front door to the couch. Kid only cocks a nonexistent brow, his arms tucked behind his head and his muddy boots on the coffee table.

To his credit, Law doesn't ask or try to understand _how_ Kid managed to get mud on his boots in a city, and instead pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh, resisting the urge to _disown_ this brat. It wouldn't work, Kid would still come around and be even more bitchier and brattier than he is now, and bring Bonney into the picture, making Law's life hell until he revoked the disownment.

"I have to be at work in an hour."

Kid continues looking at him with cocked nonexistent eyebrows, before snorting.

"Fucking so? It's not like you give a shit about your porn industry with clothes.

"That doesn't make any sense, Kid."

Kid ignores him in favor of flipping through the channels, "Shoulda went into the porn industry, you get to fuck and make money."

"And degrade yourself, Eustass." At his pointed look, Law rolls his eyes but doesn't bother saying his brother's name.

Gathering his washclothes and towel from the dresser he doesn't even remember buying, Law feel Kid's stare.

"What the fuck are doing?"

 

 

Law doesn't deny the claim, and instead tries another tactic.

"I have to bathe." 

Kid doesn't even look at him this time. "We've known each other since we were brats, so it ain't like I haven't seen it before."

Law frowns, narrowing his eyes at his sibling to no avail. He glances down at Bepo who blinks at him with round eyes.

"Make sure that he doesn't break anything."

Kid remains fixated on the TV. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll make sure that the fur ball doesn't break anything."

Law quirks a brow, smirking. "I wasn't talking to Bepo."

Kid twitches. "Fuck you!"

* * *

"What the hell were you thinking!? Wait, no—" Ikkaku pinches the bridge of her nose, careful not to mess up her makeup, "—you weren't thinking."

"Sorry," Law mumbles, careful not to open his eyes or move too much while Shachi carefully applies his makeup.

Ikkaku sighs. "I'm just glad that you're not in jail. Five minutes, Shachi."

Law hears Shachi hum in affirmation, the only indication the redhead will give when he's concentrating on his work. To anyone who doesn't know Shachi from work, it would come as a surprise that the red head's response wasn't vocal. Truthfully, Law himself was shocked when Ikkaku announced that the outgoing, chatterbox was going to be his makeup artist. But despite Shachi's personality, when he's working, you know that he's a professional.

"Ikky's gone," Shachi hums, fluffing blush onto Law's cheeks. "You can open your eyes now, just try not to blink too much."

Law complies—coming face to face with Shachi concentrating on the task at hand—and observes the red head's appearance.

For a makeup artist, Shachi doesn't dress the part.

He's wearing a bright orange t-shirt with a logo and jeans with sneakers that are most likely the most expensive thing about his outfit. Shachi's red hair is tied back in a short ponytail, and he has his lip ring in which loops on the lower half of his lip—different from Law's snakebites—while he chews a piece of gum which he flashes Law an apologetic grin for, knowing how the model doesn't like the constant chewing sound.

In ways, he's envious of Shachi. The makeup artist never has to appear in front of a camera, because his work speaks for itself on Law's features.

Speaking of which...

"I'm finished—hold on," Shachi studies Law's features for another moment, dabbing blush there, a fresh coat of lipgloss, and using a makeup pad to dab off some of his eyeliner before redoing the wings on each side.

"Finished." Shachi flashes him a teasing grin. "Go steal their hearts, Heart Stealer."

Law doesn't even blink. "Bonney?"

If possible, the idiots grin widens.

"Bonney." Shachi agrees.

Law rolls his eyes and begins to rise from the makeup chair and leave the room, before  a familiar hat with the word _Penguin_ written across blocks his vision.

"What the hell, Pen?" Shachi asks somewhere behind Law, the sound of clattering makeup pausing on its way into the red head's makeup bag.

What the hell is right.

Penguin's panting as if he took the stairs instead of the elevator, hunched over and supporting himself with the doorway.

Shachi snickers. "You look like you seen—"

"Hancock Boa," Penguin gasps, wiping the sweat on his orange, unzipped company jumpsuit which reveals a white tank top.

"S-She's here!"

Law recognizes the name as fellow model and female model of the year, and has seen her quite a few times in the press and during runways. Despite her beauty, she's known for being cruel, especially to those possessing dicks.

Behind him, there's a crash, followed by Shachi practically swooning.

"Hancock Boa!? The female model of the year with the real, gigantic boobs!?" Shachi motions to his chest, squeezing what appears to be invisible boobs or stress balls.

Penguin wheezes, "That one! I—I ran...—why do people exercise!?—" 

Law quirks a brow, watching Penguin take a deep breath before standing to full height.

"I seen her get in the elevator with her agent, and she was _pissed_."

"What was she wearing?" Shachi asks seriously, apparently unfazed that what he dropped was his makeup case which cost roughly $120—if Law remembers right from the red head's whining—and who knows how much in makeup.

Penguin grins, "A dress that didn't leave much to the imagination."

"You lucky bastard!"

Law pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

"Why was Hancock-ya here?"

Penguin hums before making a sound of understanding. "She's looking for someone." The blonde shrugs, "Her agent kept trying to talk her out of it, but _damn_ , I've never seen her look so angry—not even after her divorce."

"Wait, wait, someone actually got Hancock Boa—hates men and practically everyone but herself and her sisters—to marry them?" Shachi's eyes are almost comically wide. "Was it a woman?"

"No!" Penguin pauses thoughtfully, "But that _would_ have been hot. She married some guy with a weird name and they have a kid together."

"What!?"

Law ignores Shachi's overdramatic response. Hancock Boa being married and with a child is a surprising revelation, but not cause for appearing as if the world is ending.

"How did I not know this!?" Shachi grasps Penguin by his tank top. "Penguin, how didn't I know this!?"

"I don't know." Penguin shrugs. "She was supposed to be married in a small ceremony—but apparently her husband knows a lot of people, so it wasn't small—and they adopted a kid together."

"How do you know all this!?"

Penguin blinks. "My cousin is a model with their company."

"You have a cousin that's a model and you didn't tell me?" Shachi is the poster child of offended, with his hand actually clutched against his chest and a look of dismay.

Law sighs, knowing that Ikkaku is going to have a damn cow if he doesn't get his ass to the photoshoot. It's a wonder that she _hasn't_ grabbed him by the ear and pulled him there herself. It must be because of the Snake Princess herself ordering the staff around.

But before he can dwell on _that_ thought, there's the click-clacking of heels and a voice that Law's only heard once or twice in passing.

"YOU!"

* * *

To say that this is unfolding to be a surprising chapter in his morning—and life—is an understatement.

Hancock Boa is as beautiful and angry as ever while she glares at him as if she wants to cut off his balls—the way that she looks at every man—but also beat him to death, something _that is_ actually unusually for her.

Currently, she's doing the particular pose she uses when she's shaming someone, what's known as the infamous 'looking-down on you' pose.

Penguin— not blushing and openly gawking at the known Snake Princess in the fashion industry like Shachi—quietly whispers in Law's direction, staring at Hancock like one might at a snake beginning to strike.

The irony isn't lost on Law.

"What did you do, Law?"

And honestly, Law has no fucking idea.

The only time he ever interacted with Hancock was once at a clothing store Ikkaku managed to drag him to to keep up his image in the public eye, and their only interaction was a look of disdain on her part and a muttered "Trafalgar.", and a returned "Boa-ya."

That interaction managing to earn this level of wrath from the Snake Princess is unlikely.

"I have a photoshoot to attend—which you're keeping me from, Boa-ya—"

Hancock gives him a dirty look. "I will not be intimidated by a man, Trafalgar! Especially a man," she looks him over with a look of disgust, "like you."

"Hancock!" her agent—a short, older woman with gray hair to her shoulders, wearing a simple purple dress—snaps. "You cannot harass a fellow model!"

Hancock scoffs, placing a hand on her hip which further reveals her long legs in the red dress slitted at the sides. "We're not from the same company—and he's scum!"

Gloriosa sighs, "He is unaware—"

"I don't care!" Hancock hisses before her blue eyes meet Law's own with such a deep anger that it has to be personal.

"He almost—almost..." she falters, before barring her teeth, "harmed Luffy."

_Luffy?_

Law's eyes widen, his heart skipping a beat while he stares at... _Luffy's ex-wife_.

"The guy Captain almost punched in the park?" Penguin mumbles more to himself.

Hancock eyes Penguin with a distasteful frown. "Exactly."

"Wait, wait!" Shachi finally finds his voice, waving his hands almost comically. "That pipsqueak _divorced_ you!?"

Gloriosa audible sighs, "This question again?"

"Not divorced," Hancock denies, viewing the ring on her finger with a blush like a newly wed. "Luffy's merely taking some time to think."

The woman's agent frowns sadly. "Hancock..."

"That's all he's doing, Nyon!" Hancock turns her wrath back on Law. "And in front of our child, no less. _I will destroy you_."

And for all intents and purposes, she appears as if she's going to do just that before a familiar voice causes a warmth to settle in Law's chest and his breath to hitch.

"Hancock!"

There's Luffy, his messy black hair the same way it appeared at that dog park with the same straw hat crammed on his head, but today he's dressed in a blue vest and a darker pair of shorts with what appears to be the same sandals he wore the last time he and Law had an... encounter, and he's grinning at the Snake Princess.

"You're not supposed to run in the—" Coby shouts, a few steps behind his father as he pauses mid-sentence, staring at his mother with wide eyes and a large smile before his eyes shift to Law's form and a frown graces his features. "It's y-you!.."

Luffy makes a question sound before his eyes meet Law's and a grin spreads across his chapped lips. "Hey! It's you, Torao!"

Law's throat feels suddenly dry, as that warmth spreads inside his chest which he attempts to suppress with a frown.

"Straw Hat."

"Don't you dare utter Luffy's name with such disdain!" Hancock snaps, her blue eyes blazing with an unsubtle blush on her pale cheeks that she covers with her hands and openly coos in a way that many would think she's incapable of doing.

Coby sighs at this apparently normal behavior, one hand tangled in Luffy's blue vest and the other adjusting his glasses.

"Mom."

Luffy snickers, patting Coby's pink hair before flashing Law another grin.

"Hancock's funny."

Law quirks a brow, casting a glance at Hancock's blushing, lovestruck form, deciding that funny is a nice way to describe whatever _this_ is.

But before this... altercation? Threatening? Can continue, there's a tapping against the wall with perfectly manicured nails, courtesy of a tall woman dressed in a form fitting black suit with curly brown hair, brown eyes, and a quirked brow.

Ikkaku.

"Law, it's been past five minutes."

Law frowns, quirking a brow and giving Hancock a sideway glance. Ikkaku follows his gaze, her eyes widening comically before offering Hancock a smile when the Snake Princess turns to see who's interrupted her from gushing over her ex-husband.

"Ms. Boa, I had no idea that you would be dropping by—"

Hancock doesn't wait for her to finish before tossing her black hair over her shoulder and striding towards Luffy with a chaste smile.

"I didn't mean to trouble you."

Luffy grins, placing a hand on Coby's shoulders. "It's no problem, Hancock."

If possible, the Snake Princess—known to have a heart of stone—blush deepens before she places a kiss on Luffy's forehead then Coby's with a fondness that's surprising to everyone witnessing the event—minus Gloriosa, who smiles fondly at the sight.

It's nauseating.

Law feels the color drain from his features at the sight not meant for them—the love of a family.

Penguin casts him a worried glance, along with Shachi and Ikkaku, before Hancock places a hand on Coby's head and Luffy crouches to give the pink-haired boy a hug.

"See you later, Coby!" Luffy grins at Law to his amazement. "You too, Torao!"

And with a final wave and snicker, Luffy's running back down the halls to his son and Ikkaku's annoyance—if their frowns are anything to go by.

Hancock watches him go with a soft smile, and Law frowns at the strange woman.

"You've been forgiven by Luffy, but if you ever lay a hand on Luffy again," Hancock meets Law's gaze. "You _will_ pay."

She continues holding his gaze until addressing her agent. "Let's go, Gloriosa."

Gloriosa sighs and offers Law a kind smile before following the Snake Princess.

"Of course, Hancock."

Law watches the two women leave, a frown gracing his features until Ikkaku motions for him to follow with a quiet, "C'mon, Law."

The warmth is still sitting in his chest.


	4. "Aren't we enough, fuckin' bastard?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve stopped shipping and writing LuLaw/LawLu. Which means that my LuLaw/LawLu stories are going to be permanently discontinued. However, I think that would be a waste for all of you who actually like to read my fics, so whichever fic writer wants to continue my stories, leave me a message on Tumblr, fanfiction.net, or archiveofourown.org . 
> 
> I’m sorry that I have so many fics and series left incomplete, but I’m truly no longer interested in this ship or writing for it. I am, however, continuing my nakamaship series I’ve dreamt of you, What He Means To Us, and Questions. I may also post more nakamaship fics for One Piece, but there’s no guarantee.
> 
> I’m also no longer using Tumblr, and will only be using my aliases when posting for nakamaship fics. Once my fics have been properly given away, my Tumblr will be deleted. If a few of my fics still haven’t been given away, message me on fanfiction.net or leave a comment on here if you want to adopt a fic.

Law sighs, while the bags under his eyes practically sting as he turns the knob of his front door, ignoring the voices of his neighbors, TV shows, and the clacking heels of someone using the stairs.

What greets him is surprising.

Instead of the absolute wreck he expected, the only thing different than when he left is a few dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, a bag of chips on the table next to a barely touched bottle of water, and a broken lamp Law doesn't remember buying swept in a dustpan. But the oddest thing is Bepo purring _on_  Kid's lap while allowing Kid to _pet_ him.

Kid spares him a glance, continuing to pet Bepo, "Welcome back, Shit-Falgar."

Law merely quirks a brow, narrowing his gaze on Bepo before meeting the hazel of his brother's eyes.

"What?" Kid shakes the bottle to show how much is left before offering a shit eating grin. "I made a supplies run," the Red Stop Sign kicks his feet up on the table, "couldn't drink that plain shit you left me."

"Water."

Kid grunts. "Yeah, that shit."

Law stares at his brother until the red head grunts and meets his stare.

" _What_?"

"What'd you do to Bepo?"

The grin that spreads across Kid's painted lips makes Law wants to make the red painted on the metaphorical little brats lips natural.

"Just gave the fluffy bastard something to calm him down. Little fuck scratched the shit out of my arms when we were on the motorcycle." Kid says, frowning at the red lines on his pale skin, unaware of Law's glare.

To his credit, Law doesn't bust Kid's nose— _no—_ he simply snarls.

"Get out."

Kid snorts, knocking back what's left of his beer. "What? You gonna kick your own brother out over a damn cat?"

* * *

Law sighs, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling while he pets a drunk Bepo curled in his lap, and ignores the broken TV, silence, and the aching of his bruised cheek.

On the coffee table, his phone vibrates, indicating a text that he ignores in favor of closing his eyes and picturing Luffy's grin and how that same warmth spread in his chest at the sight. And before he knows it, a smile spreads across his features.

But it doesn't remain.

That shared moment between family (because that's what it was), comes back.

Just, Hancock, Luffy, and Coby, looked perfect—maybe a little bizarre—but they were happy, and... it hurt. Because Law isn't a little kid anymore surrounded by his strange, yet perfect, adopted family.

There's no one there when he wakes up from a dream and wanders into the kitchen for a glass of water and some crackers for his nausea.

There's no Bonney rubbing her eyes in that stupid pink robe and sandals, rummaging through the fridge for cold pizza and peering at him with her strange eyes that are blue but sometimes appear violet in the lighting, telling him he has his own personal bags under his eyes.

There's no Kid with his hair without its jell and without his makeup like Cora, peering over his shoulder at whatever book he's reading and commenting that it's stupid.

There's no Cora there to trip or light himself on fire, or to let Law sleep next to him when he has a bad dream, no matter how old his is, there's no—

_Cora_. Law finishes the thought, biting his lip as his eyes burn, _He's hurt, and it's my fault._

And, by himself with Bepo peering at him with two emerald eyes seeming to ask, _'What's wrong?'_ , he doesn't stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks, or his chocking breaths as he stares at the ceiling with glassy eyes.

"Shit!" Law covers his eyes and grits his teeth, angry and tired, and just _fucking done_ with everything and everyone.

His phone vibrates once more, rattling the coffee table and the now useless TV remote.

Law sighs, reaching for his phone, careful not to disturb Bepo as he uncrosses his legs and scrolls through the messages.

**Unknown:**

**7:00 PM:** _He's awake._

* * *

It's 8am—a time when many are asleep, at work, or in children's case, at school—colder than the day he almost punched his rivals ex-husband—and Law Trafalgar is on edge.

He's bundled up in his trenchcoat, a cup of coffee in his hand, and he's resisting the nervous habit of running a hand over his snake bites with the other. Beside him, Bonney is typing away on her phone, casually sipping her cup of coffee. She appears normal: Her pink hair done up in a messy bun, her subtle makeup done, and wearing a personally designed—that style Law could name if he was blindfolded— outfit, consisting of a t-shirt matching her hair color with a winking mini Bonney, a brown coat, and green and yellow leggings with brown boots that match her coat. The only tell that she's nervous, noticeable because Law grew up with her, is that she keeps messing with her anti-eyebrow.

They share similar tells.

Any other time, Law would have smirked, but now, he's barely restraining the urge to vomit.

But before he can dwell on seeing Cora, there's a huff from beside the chair next to his.

"Why do hospitals have to be so freaking cold?" Bonney huffs, rubbing the sleeves of her brown coat, "it's a damn freezer in here."

Law smirks and ignores nausea coiling in his stomach, "It's to keep the bodies cold and medicine in the right temperature."

She rolls her eyes, "Count on Mr. Morbid to be a downer."

Law rolls his eyes back and finds that his smirk feels easier than before.

Bonney squints, eyeing him suspiciously with her phone tucked in her coat pocket.

"Something funny, Sexy Bod?"

Definitely not huffing, Law quirks a brow at Bonney.

"I don't know, _Pixie_. Why don't you tell me when you started to sound like Kid?"

Bonney's frown deepens, a noticeable twitch in her fingers before a sickly sweet smile spreads across her features.

"Oh I don't know," she flutters her eyelashes intentionally, "when did you start breaking down in dog parks"

Law frowns, "Watching me, Bon? Didn't know you've become—"

He catches himself, watching Bonney's eyes widen before casting her gaze to the floor, so caught up in their banter that he... reverted back to when they were younger and Cora was the tease they would use when one of them began to become overprotecting to the point of annoyance, an innocent tease that makes Law's stomach lurch at the thought of it.

It's stupid, by the nausea and guilt swirling in his stomach increases tenfold.

 An uncomfortable silence follows, which has Law's stomach clenching and desire for a cigarette practically causing his fingers to flex, but before he can act on the desire that he hasn't since Cora was... hurt, Bonney attempts to smooth it over with a casual "Kid's almost here," and a snort she would deny every making, "idiot practically tripped over his own two feet when I called."

It would be casual, as if the moment never happened, but she hasn't raised her eyes from inspecting her nails since.

Law takes the awkward attempt and reclines in his seat and crosses his ankles.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Kid doesn't end up meeting us here in a stretcher."

Bonney shakes her head, a fond smile playing on her lips, "It wouldn't be the first time he met us like that."

They share a glance with matching smirks.

Bonney laughs, her eyes bright for what seems to be the first time in weeks, "I can't believe that he's my brother."

"I still don't believe it." Law smirks, remembering day the walking Stop Sign—though smaller, but not by much—was wheeled into his life.

"I mean," Bonney wipes beneath her eyes, "when Cora told us that he had a surprise, I thought it would be new clothes or some exotic animal like that sugar glider—"

"Or that baby shark—" Law supplies.

Bonney nods, her eyes wide and violet in the lighting, "—Exactly! But no, he opens the door, with that smile on his face which you knew meant he did something wrong—"

"And there was Kid holding his bloody nose and barking, 'what're you looking at?' from a stretcher with paramedics surrounding him."

Bonney taking gasping breaths past her laughter, "I can't believe Cora gave him a concussion."

"Well it wouldn't have happened if Kid didn't try to catch him when he tripped." Law snorts. It was the day they accepted the walking, talking, Stop Sign into the odd thing known as their family, after all.

"If I didn't, who woulda?" Kid snorts, his pale arms crossed over a black T-shirt with a grinning skeleton slashed by two swords.

"Kid!" Bonney huffs, practically leaping from her seat and hugging Kid around his neck on her tip toes, which causes him to huff and meet her halfway.

"Bon," Kid murmurs, releasing the pink pixie known as their sister before meeting Law's gaze, the still fresh purple bruise staining the pale of his skin over his eye.

"Shit-Falgar."

"Eustass."

Bonney huffs, pinching the lower half of Kid's arm (the only thing she can readily reach without standing on her tip toes), and tugging on Law's ear, "You idiots really know how to pick the timing, don't you?"

Kid groans, rubbing his arm and scowling at her, "When's you start growing claws?"

Law runs a hand over his ear, frowning in annoyance at her, but remaining silent.

With a victorious smile, Bonney pokes the purple swell on Law's cheek, finally drawing a hiss out of the tight-lipped model.

Shooting her a dirty look, Law raises from the hospital chair, thumbing along the plastic wrap over the pack of cigarettes that he bought on the way over, restless and hating everyone and everything.

Bonney doesn't bother to push away the stray strands of hair falling into her eyes, planting her hands on her hips, "Oh no, you're not leaving me with Kid to go kill yourself with those cancer sticks in your pocket!"

Law doesn't bother trying to figure out how she knew what he was fiddling with is cigarettes and not his usual headphones, chalking it up to what he and Kid call 'Bon-stinct.' That bizarre ability to know when they're up to something.

"You'll be fine, Bon."

"Law!"

"Let the shitty bastard do what the fuck he wants," Kid drops into Law's chair, arms locking behind his head, "he's a fucking mess anyway."

Law glares at the redhead, hurt quick and sharp in his stomach like a rusted knife.

"Fucking rich coming from you, Eustass."

Kid's gaze hardens, resentment tugging up one side of his mouth, "Yeah? Least I wasn't the one who fucking tried to OD."

"Kid," Bonney tries, a desperation cracking her voice.

"No, Bon" Kid cuts her off, hands clenching the arm rest, looking as if he's preparing to spring up, "I wanna know what the bastards problem is, he's a fucking model! He's got money, fame, and for fucks sake, Bon!"

"He has us." The anger in Kid's hazel eyes appears more hurt than angry, "Aren't we enough, fuckin' bastard? Huh? What you gonna fucking stand there and act like everything is so fucking awful for you?" Kid laughs bitterly, throwing his arms up, "Open your fucking eyes! You ain't the only one who's had it hard. So suck it the fuck up and get over yourself."

 Law could get angry—furious even—or he could have a breakdown like he did at the do park, however, all he feels is a sudden emptiness.

Which could be why he merely frowns at his brother and mutters, "Maybe you're right," before strolling down the hall towards the exit, past the vending machines and the stairs to the cafeteria.

Briefly, he heard Bonney mutter "Law." quietly under her breath, but honestly, emptiness doesn't leave room for guilt, so walking away doesn't feel like a heavy coats been placed on his shoulders.

* * *

It's chilly outside due to being morning, and the sky is a honey purple with clouds that practically appear pink.

Law exhales, puffing off his last cigarette while feeling the chill on his face, watching people walk past his car with uncaring eyes.

He doesn't know how long he's been in here, but since his phone hasn't stopped ringing, he'd say it's been more than thirty minutes.

When his phone rings again (he took it off vibrate to not miss a call), he checks the time and puts out his cigarette in the ashtray.

It's finally visiting hours.

Though he doesn't deserve to see Cora, he isn't going to hurt his father by admitting wallowing in self-pity and telling the world and everyone in it to fuck off.

He's done that enough.


End file.
